


Kitchen Cabinet Monologue

by Acrylico



Category: DR: AFTERPARTY, Original Work
Genre: Angst, Cabinet Cry Club, DR:AP, Danganronpa: Afterparty, Jail, Monologue, Stalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:15:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26004013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acrylico/pseuds/Acrylico
Summary: Laslow is sick and tired of being left behind. So he does something to get all of it out.
Relationships: Laslow Ayler/Jail
Kudos: 4





	Kitchen Cabinet Monologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is a monologue excerpted from a specific scene where Laslow is hiding in a kitchen cabinet, before the bodies of Ricky and Brigitte are discovered. The specific roleplay that this happened within was bipp_spapl's Danganronpa: Afterparty fangan. 
> 
> TW for depressive thoughts and general creepiness.
> 
> A very Front Bottoms kinda guy.

After the fight that he had absolutely no business being in... Laslow hid himself away in a kitchen cabinet, where absolutely nobody could find him. Under their very feet, how fitting. The man was very good at being quiet, unseen. This was the kind of thing he did to satisfy his curiosity. How it would have been if he hadn't been such a reject. Inserting himself into these situations, watching as everyone else falls in love.

But he--- he would be left behind. Always. It made his blood boil.

And to think Wren got herself involved; by the time he knew it had already been too late. Not like she wasn't capable, but seeing her get hurt again and again... fucking Ricky. He'd let him be nice, but deep down he hated the guy's guts. Yeah, he treated her as well as a guy with his background could. But it wasn't good enough if she always took the blow for him. He was the one who saw her cry, who was there when she... thought she deserved it. Ricky sure as hell wasn't. And that was the difference between _them._

Hearing Tao and Ukihara's muffled flirting just outside the cabinet door was also... jarring. Something about that fucking Ukihara, he wanted to catch the guy being anything else but fucking perfect. He'd never be perfect. He'd never learn how to cook, how to kiss someone, how to love something other than his work. He would be _pathetic._ It made him sick, all of their sweet gushing and cutesy embraces, the light from the outside breaking slightly with the shadows of both of their legs standing so close. Embracing.

He could have gone his whole life without this kind of feeling. He could have, if he were better. But the comfort within this kitchen cabinet, the comfort of watching, was his life. Having no stakes, you know? It's kind of dark and cramped, but with his scarf wrapped around and the comfort of being completely, utterly safe, it was comfortable. The tears he cried were unpleasant and wet and stinging, but they were soon to be swept away in the wool of his scarf. Too hot to wear in Bolivia, but just right to wear back home. He'd wondered how they managed to fit him with everything that made him comfortable, but managed to make him want to crawl in his skin. Not being able to do anything but sit and watch as someone he'd managed to fall in love with was swept away by someone else.

It all had the same feeling of being asked out as a joke, to be honest.

The sounds of pancakes being plated was grating on his ears. The smell, too. Nauseating. A pompous war criminal and a terminal pompous dickwad, fitting. Sorry, Uki wasn't that pompous... but to Laslow, yeah. Pompous. He'd kill just to cause them both pain, and see it fall apart before his very eyes. But he wouldn't, because there's always the chance that he slips up and ends up dying a horrible death. (Televised, too, eulgh.) So instead, he'll wait for the day that he gets the perfect shot. The one photo that could change everything. And trust me, there is always one thing...

A tear drips down on to the floor of the cabinet, splashing up and hitting his fingertips. The air here is so suffocating.

And he hears as Wren enters the kitchen, a whole party of people. Seeming to repel him to the outskirts of every conversation. He didn't want to be here, she was so perfect and her smile was so bright--- he wanted to savor it, make it happen as much as possible. Make her laugh. This was all he'd get. As good as it would get.

Laslow bares his teeth, and bites down on his lip. Down and down and down, the pressure pains him, a stinging anger until finally the skin gives. Metallic. As good as it would get, huh? He shakily takes his camera in hand, and prepares for another picture. Imagine if his sweet Umenda were defiled that way, what would he do..?

This feeling was so... intoxicating. His breath hitches in his throat, as his face feels the blood rushing toward it, as his legs freeze up in some sort of tension. His hands are poised utterly still. with a deliberately placed camera sneaking out from his secret hiding place. It peeks ever so carefully out of the bottom of the cabinet: a small artificial eye, looking up from the floor.

.

.

.

One. _Click._ And two. _Click. Click. Click..._


End file.
